The dust of Stars
by TapesAndRecords
Summary: Inspired by a quote from Stardust- the movie- but not really like the film. At all. A little strange and unlikely, but I still quite like it.


**A/N: I love Stardust. One of my favorite movies. If you haven't seen it, then go order the DVD off Amazon or whatever. Anyways, I was watching it and heard a quote and realized I had to write something to it. So this is the result!**

**It's a little dramatic, but hey. And those who see the similarities between this and LittleSammy's fic **_**Commitment**_**, I wrote this the night before she uploaded that one, so I thought I'd let it boil down. Then forgot about it. Here it is nonetheless!**

**Oh, and if Ziva no longer has a Mini Cooper (which I doubt) I just made her have it in this since it's a little more obvious than other cars.**

**Disclaimer: Hello London!**

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><p>"So yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable, and... strangely easy to mistake for loathing."<br>-Yvaine, (Clare Danes) –Stardust

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><p>He groans out of annoyance as the traffic in front of him slows down and the driver swears. Damn Tony for forgetting his keys. Paying the guy, he opts to get out of the cab and carry on travelling via a sidewalk rather than sit and boil in a overly hot container that smells of incense and old ladies.<p>

The air is cooler than he had anticipated, but it still refreshes him, despite the smell of car exhausts that blocks his airways. The more steps he takes, the more he realizes that there is a distinct lack of the sound of a siren, and when he looks forward and sees more people getting out of their vehicles, he senses that there must be a pretty big accident ahead.

Increasing his pace, he follows the line of car after car until he rounds a corner and sees what the problem is. He narrows his eyes to see clearer through the fog-filled air and the first sight he is greeted with is a truck. A massive truck, on its side, crushing two cars. He thinks he sees a delivery van of sorts crumpled but not dreadfully affected. He steps closer to the wreck and his stomach suddenly feels like a lead balloon of sorts; it sinks until it hits the floor and just carries on going. Because, right in front of his eyes, he can see a red Mini Cooper, tires splayed and torn and a small fire igniting in the backseat, the large front window shattered- the glass lies underneath his feet and crackles as he walks. Someone yells at him and questions his ability to be so near the wreck, so he holds up his badge, still attached from earlier on in the day, and everyone goes quiet.

Forcing himself to be professional, he asks- shouts- his inquiry as to whether anyone called 911, and finds some faith in the American people when he discovers they have done. He investigates the possibility of life in the truck first, and an injured but definitely alive man sits slanted in the seat, so Tony instructs him to 'Sit tight' until help comes. He sees a still arm bent at a weird angle from the window of the delivery vehicle, and discovers no other signs of possible-life from it, so proceeds to the red car in front.

By now, he's attracted quite a crowd, and many people have offered to help. He asks two civilians to keep truck-man talking, and instructs another three guys to get all the gawkers safely away or in their cars once more, but denies the rest of the offers of assistance.

His steps are cautious, and he tries to force himself to go through with the action.  
>'Dammit, DiNozzo. It could be anybody's car, get on with it!'<br>He covers his mouth the closer he gets- the smell of the fire clogs his already weak lungs and the scent of gas makes him choke anyway. When he gets to where the front /should\ be (it's more just some leather and a bit of metal now) he crouches down and rifles through the shards of glass, ignoring the significant cuts his hands are gaining due to his movements. Shuffling forward on the balls of his feet, he attempts to see who, if anyone, is in the mess.  
>"Hello?" his voice is quiet, just above a whisper, for which he is relieved as he doubts it can do much more after his instruction-dictating earlier. "Anybody there? Can you hear me?"<p>

He hears a moan, filled with pain, as a response, and although his ears prick up, his heart buries itself somewhere with his stomach, right at the center of this goddamn earth. Because he knows who that is; he knows who's trapped and crushed and cut and... bleeding. He reaches into the car and his fingers feel a warm, sticky liquid, blood. Her blood. He knows who that is- he knows he has to save her. It's Ziva David. Stranded. Helpless. Dying.

"Y- ur- ou- n't- nd- an- lp- ge- zo?" the words seep into his brain as if he's underwater, they don't fit, they're unbelievably muffled, and he can't respond because he'll drown.  
>"Agent DiNozzo, are you sure you don't need any help there?" the water's in his throat, in his ears, on his face. He snaps out of it as she gasps his name, and he realises he really can feel the water on his face. He wipes the tears off his cheeks with a furious nature, promises her he will get her out, and stands, his legs shaking from the release of pressure.<p>

Spinning round to face the man who has addressed him, he nods, then looks to the insistent crowd. Choosing two strong-looking men, he elects himself, the men, and the person who had called him to get the delivery van off and free Ziva.  
>"Listen, guys, there is a woman in this car. She's alive, breathing, talking a little, but I think she's lost a lot of blood." he hears a siren, somewhere in the distance, but knows she could be gone by the time it reaches them through the traffic. Telling the three strangers of his plan, they set to work, all of them hurting and bruised after one simple task but carrying on relentlessly.<p>

By the time the little red car is free, and the other vehicle has been rolled aside (rather ungraciously for the deceased inside it, he must admit), the sirens are considerably louder but he knows the rows of cars that are separating them are so large that hope fades every moment. He winces as he sees the wreck of her car- it's almost bent straight through the middle, the front window has caved in, and worst of all, she's lying on her side, glass cutting her at almost every available place. He attempts to ignore the bloodstains that get progressively larger the more he sees of them, to little avail, but his makeshift team get him in gear by asking him how they plan to get her out.

He sees the windshield as the best exit, when he takes into consideration that the doors no longer exist, really, and tells the men of his plan to rip it out, then cut the seatbelt she's wearing and pull her out. Of course, he's making up his ideas as he goes along, but he's pleased with this one.

Tony is the only one with a knife in his possession, but they improvise another way of wrenching off the glass by taking the apparently useless emergency brake from the truck and using that. All the while, the sirens get increasingly closer but he forces himself to focus solely on Ziva, and freeing her from the makeshift metal prison she's in.

They stop part-way through after an onlooker recommends covering Ziva's face with a scarf in case any shards of glass fly into her face, so they take the woman's scarf and he puts it in place, telling her they're working on getting her out, and they go back to the tiring work.

When the large piece is finally pryed off, he can't help but grin at the cheer the crowd give, and he instinctively checks his new friends are okay and glass-free before they keep going. He kneels on the ground, stones and pointed fragments piercing his skin through his clothing, but it does not hurt him. Reaching through the now-empty space, he notes Ziva's shallow breathing, but sees her eyes open, peeking over the scarf and looking at him. He moves it off her face as lightly as he can manage.  
>"Hey." he says to her, barely a whisper, a ghost of something that was once a smile gracing his features. He gently hooks his fingers under the twisted fabric of the seatbelt and attempts to avoid touching her- or do anything, for that matter, that might hurt her- and gradually moves his knife up and down as he slices it. Words that he hopes are comforting escape his lips as he continues sawing at the material, and when the strings finally give way he releases a sigh he didn't know he had been holding.<br>"All right..." he says, half a comment and half a question to her. A hand reaches out before he can stop it, but he just pats her cheek in the least pain-inducing action he can manage.

At that point, the constant noise of the sirens peaks, and he crawls backward out of the shell to find an EMT rush straight in after him. His newfound colleagues pat him on the back as a way of congratulating him, but he allows himself no time to indulge in the celebration yet- not until she's safe, and alive, and free. However, he smiles a little sheepishly as whoops and cheers and whistles come from the rather large audience they've attracted, when another EMT brings a gurney, and out rolls Ziva- cut, bleeding, writhing, and an oxygen tube being pushed down her throat, but still Ziva all the same.

The three other men and him sit in the back of an ambulance together, as their hands get cleaned and seen-to, and he learns their stories. They, in turn, learn his, and laugh at his stories and grin as he tells them of Ziva and the likelihood of it being her in the wreck- her driving's awful, after all. They all get a free ride to the hospital afterward, but Kevin and Nate and Scott call people to come pick them up. Tony thanks each of them as they leave, and smiles when they say, genuinely, that they hope she's okay.

In the end, it's just him. He sits by her bedside, never leaving unless a Doctor is there and he thinks she's safe enough. Deeming it rather important, he calls Gibbs and informs him, who replies with a  
>"Well, yeah, DiNozzo, you're all over the news.", making Tony smile.<br>Abby comes and visits, but Ziva's still sedated from the painkillers and the operations they performed on her fractured arm and possibly-intracranial-bleeding, of which there turned out to be none. So the scientist just leaves some flowers, a teddy bear, and a card, kissing Tony on the cheek and deeming him a 'Hero'.  
>McGee calls Tony and it turns out that's exactly what the senior agent needs- a confidant; someone to talk to about his feelings at the scene, but not someone who will dissect his views and psycho-analyse him. McGee also shares Ducky and Palmer's well-wishes, and all of a sudden Tony's so glad that his family are there for him.<p>

Then, one day, he's sitting sleeplessly in her room, and she groans, her head twisting round in his direction, and his heart leaps into his throat. She yawns in a way that looks mildly painful, then shifts her head a bit, and her eyes open delicately.  
>"Hey..." he says, his voice cracking as he tries to keep the tears in. They stream down his face anyway.<br>"H-" she clears her throat, then attempts again. "Hello, Tony." she smiles at him then, and everything seems to turn to jelly inside him as even more tears fall down his cheeks.  
>"Thank you, Tony. For saving me."<br>"Yeah, well..." he sniffs "I knew your driving would do that at some point." She chuckles a little in response, and then winces as something presumably painful twinges. They both sleep, but he keeps her hand in his just for safety.

The next morning, he tells her everything, and she tells him what she can remember. She laughs quite a bit, too- probably not a good idea for someone who could have had bruised ribs, but it doesn't seem to bother her-, especially when she watches the news and sees him on the screen, flashing his badge and ripping at metal doors, cutting his hands and grinning when the windshield comes off with a crack. She tells him that most of the events are fuzzy to her, she only remembers part of the crash (three people pulled out at once, etc.) and patches of her 'rescue'.

He doesn't care that she doesn't remember, really. He's just relieved she's okay. And he tells her that, and she smiles in reply. Even though he has no reason to stay in the hospital anymore- not that he really ever did- he visits her every day and sometimes ends up asleep next to her, but nobody really minds. He also finds that if someone notices him in the street (the amount goes down each time he visits a store, which he's glad about), they always ask 'Oh, how is she?' and he just laughs and tells them she's doing well.

When she gets discharged, she's mildly famous and entirely without a car, so he offers to pick her up and take her home every evening. Except, one evening, he operates on autopilot and drives to his apartment instead. But she, far from being embarrassed, simply chuckles and says 'You could just have asked, Tony.', making him burn red and grin like an idiot. But she just kisses him and crawls underneath his sheets.

She gets another car, in the end, but she drives home to his place every night anyway, because it's her place too. And once every now and then- just rarely, they'll be walking down the street, hand in hand, and someone will recognize them, and ask them.  
>"You saved her... didn't you? You're that man- your girlfriend was trapped in the car, wasn't she?" And they just smile and he'll squeeze her hand and they walk on. Because, he supposes, she wasn't his girlfriend, but she is now, so maybe he really did rescue his girlfriend that day. He does know one thing for certain, though. He's never going to let her drive alone again.<p>

Because, all those days, all those years- she was right there; right in front of him. And he knew that they loved each other. Because theirs is an odd type of love. He found it had twists and turns- not all of them welcome, and he knew that there was such a long time when neither one knew what was round the corner. But it was love, and there were servings of it offered for such a long time- it just took ages for one of them to bite; take the bait, call it what you will. And their love is the kind of type that makes your heart burst and your head fill up and everything ache- at times it was too easy to give up and deny its existence. Of course, they never did that officially. They just pretended to hate each other. Which resulted in the best decision of his life- to take a cab because no, he hadn't lost his keys, she had taken them as revenge for a fight they'd had earlier that day. So he'd walked, and found her- in more ways than one. And the rest, as they say, is history.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review! I can only get better because of your (constructive) criticism.**


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